Shooting Feet
by AntaresTheEighthPleiade
Summary: In which Thor still doesn't know what's going on, Volstagg does not actually apologize, and Loki just wants these morons out of his room. AU in which Loki does not go nuts. Sequel to Elephants Galore.


Insert clever disclaimer here.

* * *

"Shooting Feet"

Or, "The Worst (and Only) Intervention in Asgard's History"

"Get out of my room."

Thor didn't move. He remained in his seat, strong and steady as a rock. "No, brother. I cannot do such a thing, for this is an intervention."

Loki's eyes narrowed. He turned his gaze from Thor to Hogun, who sat at the older prince's left, to Sif at Hogun's left. He appeared to be calculating the odds of him successfully throwing them bodily out (or through) his door. Deciding that the odds were not good, he grumbled, "Goodbye," and spun on his heel, preparing to exit.

Fandral and Volstagg blocked the doorway, arms folded, feet firmly planted. "Sorry, Loki," the former said, not sounding sorry at all, "but this is for your own good."

Loki's face twitched. His form flickered, nearly popped out of existence. Then he solidified once again, expression morphing to shock.

"We had Helga put an anti-teleportation ward on your chambers," Fandral explained helpfully.

Thor grabbed his brother from behind. "You cannot escape us, brother, for we seek only to help you. We are participating in a Midgardian custom known as the intervention, which I believe will be very good for you."

"And what, pray tell," began Loki in a voice of silvered steel, "is this 'intervention'?"

Thor wrapped his arms around his brother's midriff. Loki grunted in disapproval as his brother lifted him off the floor. Before he could snap out some comment about the dire vengeance he would exact unless Thor set him down _right this instant,_ the older prince explained, "An intervention is a form of action taken when a loved one is hurting himself in some way. Those who love him gather together to explain why he should change his ways."

Loki jutted his thumb towards the four warriors, who by now had all clustered together by six hideously ugly chairs that hadn't been in his room that morning and had probably been dragged in just for this. "Then what are _they_ doing here?"

Thor grimaced as he carried his brother over to the sixth chair, an overly plush monstrosity sitting at the center of a semicircle. "One fight does not invalidate centuries of friendship." Especially not when the friends in question genuinely repented and had asked Thor's advice in winning his brother's forgiveness. Thor just wished for all their sakes that he'd been able to give that advice. But Loki was a prickly creature, holding fast to even imagined slights. He would be ten times worse now that he actually had a legitimate grievance.

Sure enough, Loki was not impressed. "They accused me of treason in front of the entire court of Asgard and demanded that I disobey the Allfather's last command by rescinding your banishment, then asserted that if I did not do so, I had clearly orchestrated everything from his Odinsleep to the near-war with Jotunheim in order to gain the throne."

The warriors had grace enough to look embarrassed. Fandral grinned sheepishly. "…Sorry?"

"It was rather a stressful time," Volstagg mumbled to his feet.

Thor winced. He did not think that this was likely to make Loki swallow his pride, let go of a fight with those he had loved for centuries, and forgive them.

He was right.

Loki fixed the warriors with a flat stare.

"…It was a difficult time for all of us," Thor murmured, cutting off his brother's inevitable retort. "And you know how stress can make people do things that they regret very, very much."

He had not thought it possible for his brother's gaze to flatten out more, but Loki proved him wrong. "Get out of my room."

"They cannot," Thor replied, "for this intervention is how they intend to make up for… ah…."

"Accusing me of treason, demanding that I commit treason to prove I'm not a traitor, proclaiming to all Asgard and half the Nine Realms that I am not fit to be king, and—"

"We wrote letters!" Fandral exclaimed, waving around the epistle in question.

"Will you not even give them a chance to apologize, brother?" Thor turned what Darcy called his 'patented puppy eyes of unfairly potent adorableness' toward Loki. "They truly regret their actions and wish only to help you. Will you not let them?"

"No, I don't think I will. Now take _your_ friends and get out of my room."

Thor grimaced. "We have sworn an oath not to let you escape until we have completed the intervention."

He had not particularly wanted to reveal that tidbit. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to—though, knowing Loki, that hope had been foolish from the get-go. He had hoped that his baby brother would see sense right away, that he would _want_ to be helped, that he would accept the help he was offered without bringing up past offenses. Admittedly, he was justified in his anger (Thor had been furious himself and refused to speak with them for two days, by which point they had groveled sufficiently for forgiveness that he was inclined to grant it to them) towards Sif and the Warriors Three, who really ought not to have started a riot in the palace itself (though in their defense, that had been a complete accident, and they'd spent the night in the dungeons despite not joining in the violence), but couldn't he see that _their_ friends desperately desired to make up for their mistake? And the best way they could do that was by helping Loki help himself.

For Loki needed help, needed it desperately. He had changed since the day of Thor's banishment, and not for the better. The prince had lost weight these past few months, his skin whitening until he appeared a walking corpse. The paleness made his ebony hair and the blackish-purplish bags beneath his dull eyes look like ink stains. His hair and clothing were less immaculate than Thor had ever seen them, with the former was longer than it had been in years, the locks snarled in knots, the latter not as closely coordinated as it usually was, scuffed and slightly worn. And when had he last seen Loki without a pair of gloves—the thicker the better—hiding his hands from sight?

His behavior had changed as well. He had alternated between snappish, morose, and (this was fortunately his default state) tightly wound, emotion seething beneath an iron mask. He had become so quiet, not socializing with anyone more than he had to, spending even more time than usual in the libraries or locked up in his chambers. Considering how much time Loki normally spent in those pursuits, that was saying something.

And it was all the frost giants' fault.

The day of Thor's banishment had been the day of their disastrous foray into Jotunheim, which had nearly ended in a war. Loki had done _something_ to avoid that war, something which had resulted in Laufey and his wife (Thor had been told her name, but he could never remember it. Oh well) virtually stalking him. Well, all right. Perhaps 'stalking' was a bit of an exaggeration. But in the one inter-species peace dinner Thor had attended (before he had attempted to murder Laufey with a plate and been consequently banned from interacting with the jotun king ever again), neither Laufey nor his queen had taken their eyes off Loki. It was _creepy,_ that's what it was! And as the dinners had continued, so too had the stares, so too had Loki's decline. It was not difficult to guess at a relationship between these things.

Not to mention that he was rather concerned about repairing the friendship between his brother and the others. Loki desperately needed friends right now.

Hence the oath. Loki was just so stubborn that Thor had felt he'd had no choice. Without the oath, the younger prince wouldn't appreciate just how serious they were.

The younger prince in question gawked at him with an open mouth, rendered temporarily speechless by horror. But this was Loki, and speechlessness never lasted long in Silvertongue. "You took an _oath?_"

"Yes."

Loki grit his teeth audibly, eyes shut. His fists clenched; the cords in his neck bulged. He spat out a single profanity, then sighed and returned to 'his' monstrosity of a chair. Steepling his fingers, he growled, "Get it over with so I can move on with my life."

Well. It was not quite the acceptance Thor had hoped for, but perhaps that could come later. He seated himself in his own chair, a gilded abomination just as ugly as Loki's. Where in the Nine Realms had Fandral _found_ these things, and what had possessed him to use them for anything but firewood?

"Yes. As I said, the intervention is a custom widely used in Midgard. An entire section of the Great Encyclopedia of Wiki is devoted to explaining it. That is where I learned of it."

"Obviously."

Thor shifted. Not only were the chairs ugly, they were downright uncomfortable. Also, he was a bit uncomfortable with Loki's obvious displeasure.

"The Great Encyclopedia of Wiki states that in an intervention, the loved ones of a loved one gather round him with letters that they have written beforehand. They read the letters to explain why the loved one—that is you, brother—must stop his destructive behavior."

Loki nodded impatiently.

Thor looked over his brother's shoulder, addressed part of the wall. "They also lay out consequences for not taking action to make oneself better."

Loki's nostrils flared but he said nothing. One foot tapped against the floor.

Well, at least he hadn't left. That was a good sign, right? Thor continued, "Perhaps Fandral should go first. You already have your letter out."

Fandral started. "Oh. Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Ah…." He unfolded the letter, coughed uncomfortably. "Would you mind not staring at me?"

Everyone but Loki turned away. Loki folded his arms, raised a slender black brow as though to ask _what did you expect?_

Fandral cleared his throat. "_Dear Loki,"_ he read, _"In these past few fortnights, I have watched you grow thinner and paler than normal. Your humor has suffered, as has the rest of you. As I looked upon you growing gaunt, I feared that your unhappiness was perhaps partially my fault. I was wrong to accuse you of arranging Thor's banishment and King Odin's Sleep. I beg and crave your pardon."_

Was it Thor's imagination, or was Loki just a little bit softer? His heart swelled with hope.

"_For one argument after century upon century of friendship is not enough to destroy such a mighty bond. We have tolerated your mischief and your magic and we can tolerate your well-deserved ire, but neither I nor our battle-siblings can tolerate you keeping company with the frost giants. A monster of the frozen wastes is no fit company for any As, much less a prince of Asgard. In this, you have gone too far._

"_Turn back from this foolishness, Loki. Return to your true companions, we who have allowed you to accompany us on quests and have even let you use magic in them. Turn away from the beasts of Jotunheim and back to those who have always wanted you to become who you ought to be. You are a prince of Asgard, Odin's son, Thor's brother. You dishonor them with your behavior." _

Not a bad strategy, Thor decided. Loki loved his family, was very prickly about their (if not necessarily his own) honor. Yet a glance at his brother's face revealed a visage of stone.

"_I could understand if you cannot find it in yourself to forgive me. I truly did act abominably during your reign as prince regent. Yet I beg you to confide in us what troubles your soul and let us help you fix it. If you do not, I am afraid that I must enforce certain consequences. The others and I have agreed that we will not permit you to join our quests unless you are honest with us in this matter, nor will we train with you in the field or support your use of magic."_

Loki choked. He stared at Fandral as though the other man had gone mad.

Thor wanted to cheer. It was working! They were getting emotion out of stone; soon he'd have his brother back.

"_So once again, Loki, I entreat you: tell us what is wrong. Let us battle it together."_

Fandral folded up his letter, gazed expectantly at Loki. The Trickster's blank visage had returned full force, though some unidentifiable emotion still burned in his eyes. Thor told himself that that was a good sign.

"Next." Loki's voice was clipped and sharp, the lack of inflection giving nothing away.

Fandral seemed rather put out by his friend's lack of response, but this _was_ Loki.

"I shall," Hogun volunteered after a short, uncomfortable silence.

"You see, Loki?" Thor interjected as his friend fumbled around for his own letter. "Hogun is actually going to _talk!_ Just look at how much you have worried him!" He slapped his brother on the back, laughed, silently encouraged the other man to laugh with him. Volstagg, Fandral, and Sif managed a few chortles at Thor's rather forced joke, but the one for whom it was intended remained silent.

Thor sighed.

"The rest of you can get your letters out too," Loki decided. "Have them ready."

Thor sighed again.

Hogun unfolded his epistle.

"_Loki, we fear for you. We have fought an ugly fight, yes, and I was in the wrong. I ask your forgiveness that I might aid you, for you clearly cannot handle your current situation alone."_

Hogun folded the letter up.

"You know," Volstagg muttered, "I think that's the most I've ever heard him say in one go." Sif nodded her agreement.

"You go next, Volstagg," Loki grumbled.

The large warrior blinked a couple of times but then jerked his head in a nod. "Right. Ah…."

"I told you to get the letters out."

"Sorry." Volstagg flushed beneath his beard.

Loki tapped his foot.

Volstagg fumbled about, removing a half-eaten drumstick and skin of mead from his pocket before finally finding his grease-stained letter. Loki didn't bother to hide his disgust. He gave the drumstick a nasty glare; it burst into flames and disintegrated in mere moments, leaving a scorch mark on the prince's hardwood floor. Loki's scowl deepened. He twisted his hand ever so slightly, and the black patch returned to its original brown color. He glanced up, saw that Volstagg still wasn't finished, and audibly grit his teeth. The foot-tapping resumed.

Face red as his beard, Volstagg finally finished opening up his letter.

"_Loki, my friend, we have faced many a foe together over the centuries. We have supped together, drunk together, trained together, laughed together. Is this not friendship? Why, then, do you turn away? Yes, I have wronged you, but you refuse to even let me apologize. Such ungracious behavior does not befit a prince of Asgard. I would not begrudge you if you refused to accept my apology, but you have not even done that. _

"_And then there is the matter of your behavior recently. I will ignore the frost giants who destroyed your brother's coronation, for we lack proof that you were involved, but no one can deny your unseemly involvement with the creatures of Jotunheim. Why in the Nine Realms do you insist on keeping company with them? All know that the jotnar are naught but monsters, unfit companions for any Asgardian, much less a prince of the realm. If you are desperate enough for companionship that you seek out the company of beasts, I would recommend acquiring a hound. Or, better yet, listen to my apology and reconcile with those who care for you._

"_But as I have said, I will understand if you do not choose to forgive me yet. I will accept your decision now that you have listened to my apology."_

"I haven't."

"What?" Volstagg looked up from his letter, his face a perfect picture of confusion.

"I said," Loki repeated, in the slow and over-enunciated voice of one addressing a senile, half-deaf geezer, "that I haven't."

"Haven't what?"

Loki didn't answer.

Volstagg turned helplessly to Sif, who shrugged; to Fandral, who just grinned sheepishly; to Hogun, who shook his head; and finally to Thor, who said, "Brother, what has he not done?"

The younger prince was now wearing his I-can't-believe-you-really-are-this-stupid face. He usually reserved that expression for particularly perilous quests that he didn't think they could survive or, in Thor's case, when he caused a (usually minor) diplomatic incident. As the moments dragged on with no one explaining what Volstagg had done wrong, Loki's expression grew more annoyed before he leaned back into his chair and ordered, "Continue."

Thor sighed. Of course Loki wasn't going to tell them what had offended him this time. That would be much too productive for the ornery mage.

"All right," Volstagg acquiesced, still confused. He rustled through the letter. "Now where was I…? Ah. I'd just apologized."

Loki snorted.

Volstagg stared at him a few hopeful seconds, but the prince remained tight-lipped about whatever was going on in his head. Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything from Loki, the bearded warrior gave up. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"_But regardless of whether or not you choose to accept my apology, I beseech you to fulfill three requests. Firstly, you must at least tell Thor the cause of your strange behavior. He did not fight with you as I did, so you must not abandon him. You are clearly not well. You have always been rather sickly-looking, but now you look as though you should be in Eir's care rather than traipsing about with jotnar. That is my second request. You must break all ties with the brute warlord and his frozen whore_—"

Loki leapt to his feet, white-faced and furious. Green eyes _burned. _His fists clenched, trembled, as he strode towards Volstagg, leaned down until he was close enough to bite the other man's nose off. "Farbauti Balik Hvalir is a queen respected and beloved by her people." His hand shot out, clasped Volstagg's collar almost tight enough to cut off the air supply. The hand shook as its master snarled, "You will _never_ speak of her in such terms again."

Thor gaped. He was vaguely aware that his jaw had sagged until his beard scratched against his shirt, that his eyes were wide as dinner plates, and that his friends were equally agog, but that barely registered next to the knowledge that _Loki was sticking up for a frost giantess._ What the bloody _hell?_

"Well?" Loki hissed, tightening his grasp.

Volstagg didn't reply. Apparently, Loki's inexplicable defense had robbed him of his capacity for rational (or even irrational) speech.

Loki's eyes narrowed to slits of green.

"Brother," Thor began, then fell silent. He really had no idea what to say.

Very slowly, Loki turned his enraged emerald gaze to his brother. "Yes, Thor?" he asked silkily. "Surely you agree with me that such an esteemed warrior of Asgard should not be permitted to slander a great queen."

"Of course not," Thor blurted, "but what's-her-face is not a great queen. She's only a jotun."

It was a mistake, one he regretted the instant it left his mouth. That was the old Thor speaking, the one who hadn't known or cared anything about other races, who hadn't appreciated what other species could offer. He had grown up hearing about the barbarous beasts of the frozen wastes—but he'd also heard that Midgardians were simple-minded fools. Jane had proven that wrong most spectacularly, Jane and Darcy and Erik and the Son of Coul and the other humans he had met, but especially his lovely lady. Now he thought of Jane and of the jotun queen, of Jane's reaction if she had heard his callous, stupid remark. The very thought made him wince. Then he thought of the frost giantess, with her face so much like Loki's that it frightened him. Something tickled the back of his mind, an explanation for Loki and Laufey and Farbauti and war and negotiation and wergild and sentiment and red gazes full of bittersweet longing.

The new Thor wasn't quite certain what he thought of frost giants, but… it was probably not the blind, unreasoning contempt he had previously possessed. He would have to….

He thought again of Loki and the jotnar, of Laufey and Farbauti looking at him so intently. Then he found himself thinking of Frigga and Odin. The faces flickered back and forth, back and forth, and something in his mind screamed at him to pay attention.

His head began to hurt.

But he had other, more pressing things to attend to. Things like Loki's furious glare.

Thor had never been good with words, but he had to at least try. "What did you say her name was?"

Oh dear. That… that came out wrong.

"Farbauti," Loki growled.

"Yes." Thor nodded. "Farbauti. Volstagg, apologize for your vile insult to Farbauti."

Now it was Loki's turn to gawk.

"What?" Volstagg squawked.

"What happened to 'just a frost giant'?" Fandral hissed to Sif.

Thor gestured. Volstagg just stared at him. Thor gestured again, this time more forcefully. Volstagg started. "Ah, yes. Yes. I apologize for calling Fauri a…" He checked the letter. "…frozen whore."

Loki stared at him, eyes still narrow as could be. Thor thought again of the disastrous dinner. Farbauti had worn that exact same expression, suspicious and distrustful and ready to lash out. Very slowly, the younger prince took his hands from Volstagg's throat, walked back to his chair. "Finish the letter." No warmth colored his voice, just chill. He was as cold as a frost giant himself.

And why did that thought send a chill down Thor's spine?

"Er…." Volstagg skimmed his epistle, eyes getting wider and wider. Thor dearly hoped that he hadn't peppered it with more rude references to Farbauti—or that, if he had, he at least had sense enough to edit them out.

"_You must break all ties with… Laufey and Fauri._" He glanced up at Loki as though seeking permission to proceed.

"Farbauti," the younger prince corrected.

"Farbauti," Volstagg agreed. "Yes, well. You must still break all ties with her. Ah…." His gaze dropped. _"Third, I beg you to allow us to help you. You are plainly ill and suffering; anyone could see that much in a single glance. I have wronged you, I know that now. I have wronged you so badly, but it would be an even greater wrong to abandon you in your time of need. Please, Loki, remember the trust and friendship we once shared and could learn to share again. If ever you need an ear to listen or an arm to support, seek me out. I want nothing more than to make up for my mistake, and this is the only way I can think of to do so. _

"_Thor tells me that the Midgardians prescribe consequences for people who do not change after an intervention is held for them. In accordance with this custom, I must warn you that if you do not accede to at least one of my requests, I will no longer eat, train, or quest with you. This is non-negotiable, so please, Loki, do as I ask."_

Loki hardly waited for Volstagg to close his mouth before growling, "Sif's turn."

Sif at least had had sense enough to take out and unfold her letter. She began without further delay.

"_I have thought long and hard these past months about my mistakes, and am ashamed to admit that there are many. I have wronged you, and for that I am truly sorry. But does one wrong justify another? You are doing wrong to your brother by fraternizing with jotnar. While I understand that interacting with them is necessary to preserve the peace you wrought, feeling affection for them is most unsuitable for an As, especially a prince of the Aesir. Cut off with all ties with the frost giants and return to others of your own kind."_

Loki muttered something that sounded an awful lot like, "Now you're just contradicting yourself."

Sif paused, looked up expectantly, but Loki didn't repeat what he'd said. He made a shooing gesture with his hand, encouraging her to continue.

"_That is the demand I make of you: interact with the jotnar as diplomacy demands, but otherwise ignore them. If you refuse to do such a thing, I will no longer permit you to spar with me. Consider your options, Loki, and choose your path wisely."_

She folded up her letter and waited.

Loki glanced at Thor. "Might I assume that you also have one of these ridiculous letters?"

"They are not ridiculous, brother. They are traditional."

"Just answer the question, Thor."

"Yes, I do have one of these _traditional_ letters." He lifted it to his face. "I shall read it now.

"_My dearest, most beloved brother,_

"_I fear for you. You are so ill and tense, and I recall well that you once had Eir check you over for madness. You know that you are ill and tense and miserable. Consulting Eir proves this. Yet you refuse to uproot the source of the problem: the frost giants."_

But was it the jotnar? Thor couldn't help but wonder. Odin had said something about centuries of mistakes. Thor hadn't thought about his father's cryptic statement until now, but Loki's sullenness and his outburst in defense of Farbauti made him suspect that the problem, whatever it was, originated in Asgard as much as Jotunheim. Should he try to say that, try to work his new knowledge into his old letter?

No, Thor decided, that was a terrible idea. Loki had the silver tongue. Thor was not a bad speaker, not with battle and inspiration and kingship and glory and teamwork, but he was nowhere near good enough to deal with Loki's moods. Besides, he had spent hours on the letter, perfecting it, rereading it, practicing it aloud. Even if he did try to improvise and blame things other than the frost giants, he'd probably just start reciting the real letter anyways.

"_No son of Odin should need to keep company with frost giants. No prince of Asgard should need to treat with them. No As should have to suffer at a frost giant's hand."_

Oh dear. Perhaps he should have improvised. Or maybe he should have skipped over this bit until he reassessed his position on jotnar.

"_Yet you do these things,_" Thor continued, "_and I know not why. All I know is that it causes you pain. Share your burden with me, Loki. Tell me what is wrong, and I will do everything in my power to fix it. Even if I must destroy Laufey and everyone with a drop of his blood in their veins, I will do it. Even if I must rekindle the war and fight it singlehandedly, destroying every jotun I see, I will do it. Am I not the giant slayer? Whatever they are doing to you, I will protect you. By the time I finish with them, no frost giant—be he peasant or lord or prince or king—will dare to set foot on Asgard ever again."_

Loki went slightly green around the gills. "You do realize that I went to great lengths to _keep_ the peace, don't you?"

"I know," Thor confirmed, wondering why his brother looked sick and slightly frightened. "But what I am trying to tell you is that I care for you so much that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy. You are my _brother._"

"And _they_ are only frost giants," Loki murmured.

"They are hurting you," Thor said.

"Your brother," Loki said. There was something odd about his tone, some strange intensity in his gaze. Thor found himself thinking yet again of Frigga and Odin and Laufey and Farbauti.

"Well, yes," he said. "Family is important, Loki. You are important."

"Because I am your brother," the younger prince reiterated.

"Well, yes."

It was the wrong thing to say. Nothing that dimmed the light in Loki's eyes could be the right thing to say. Suddenly, inexplicably terrified, Thor added, "And because you are an excellent person and I love you." He had to change the subject. He had to take Loki's mind off family and back onto the frost giants. "And because I love you, I will protect no matter what it takes."

Loki snorted. "Don't even try to pretend, Thor. I know quite well what you think of jotnar." An odd bitterness flavored his tone.

Thor opened his mouth. Loki cut him off. The bitterness was gone from his voice. "Just get to the demands and consequences already."

There was no way he was getting through to the man, especially since he himself didn't know what he thought about the species, so Thor made a tactical retreat. "Yes. Demands and consequences." He looked back down.

"_I ask that you let Father or me take over your duties with regards to Jotunheim. Avoid the frost giants as much as you can, and you will be happier. Stop attending those ridiculous dinners. And above all, just tell me what is wrong with you so I can help fix it. You are so thin and wan, Loki, and you have not gotten any better. Confide in me and let me help you."_

Thor folded up his letter, gazed hopefully at his brother. Loki, of course, was as impassive as always. Whatever had chipped his stone mask had been covered up again, leaving him smooth and blank and expressionless.

"I am finished."

"No consequences?"

"You are clever enough to realize that not acquiescing to my demands will only hurt you."

Loki jerked back, eyes enormous.

Thor could have kicked himself. "Not like that! I meant from the frost giants!"

Loki settled, but his body remained tense, taut. "Let me see if I understand what you five are saying. Jotnar have no place on Asgard, and especially not anywhere near a prince of the realm. Therefore I should break off all contact with them and tell the mighty giant slayers before me about the connection between my recent upset and Jotunheim. If I fail to do so, you will never drag me on another stupid quest, force me to train with you, or expect me to attend feasts with you. In short, I will never have to tolerate your belittlement and condescension ever again."

The others exchanged nervous looks. This was not part of the plan.

"I do believe that I shall remain quiet." Loki rose to his feet. "It seems your time has been wasted enough already, so I shan't detain you any longer. Besides, I need to remove Helga's ward, and you would be quite bored just watching me do that."

"Loki," Thor began.

The younger prince shook his head. His lips were tight.

"We're just trying to help you," Volstagg protested.

"Good for you. Now get out of my room."

Not knowing what else to do, they obeyed.

"Well," said Volstagg. "That really could have gone better."

* * *

You said it, Volstagg.

Guys, I know that this is your planet's first attempt at an intervention, but you are not supposed to threaten your intervention-ee with death or insult his mom. Both are frowned upon.

Not quite as happy with this one as I am with "Elephants Galore," but you guys have waited long enough for the sequel. Of course, this one-shot kind of demands another installation in the _Figures of Speech_ series, which will be published... eventually. Don't hold your breath, folks. It will be a while. I'm torn between another, slightly longer fic about Thor et al trying to figure out what's going on with Loki or just getting to the point and explaining the whole frost giant thing to Thor. Ideas/inspiration are welcome! Because this is just kind of a fun universe to write in. :)

-Antares


End file.
